Sweet Temptations, Bitter Ends
by hezziebob182
Summary: Adam. Judith. It happened. And now there's no way Adam or Joan can forget. Chapters 5 and 6 up.
1. Sugar High

Title: Sweet Temptations, Bitter Ends

Author: hezziebob182

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Joan Of Arcadia. :( Pretty please don't sue me!

Adam had never been to Judith's before.

_Had anybody except me?_

"So Rove, sit down. Relax. Chill."

"Uh… okay." Adam sits down at the end of Judith's bed.

Judith walked over to her desk, grinning as she pulled a bottle of vodka from one of the draws. She turned and shook it at Adam.

"Judith!"

"Hey, hey… chill okay? Tiny weenie bit in some cola? My parents are away for the night."

"No thanks Jude, it's…" Adam looks at his watch, "One thirty."

"Fine, spoilsport." Laughing, she returned the bottle to her desk.

"Hey Judith, uh, why am I here?"

"I was worried about you. You're bummed. It's upsetting JoJo too."

"I'm fine."

Judith sat down next to her guest, her laughter replaced with seriousness. "No, Adam. You're not."

Adam bit his lip, staring at the floor.

"Tell me?"

"It's just…" He trailed off, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's just what? You can trust me Adam, I promise."

"It's Jane." He gasped, shocked that his thoughts could verbalise themselves against his will.

Judith didn't look surprised. "What about her?"

"Do you want the truth or shall I sugar coat it?"

"Go on, give me the truth." She shuffled slightly closer to Adam along the blue duvet.

"She doesn't want to sleep with me."

"Oh. I get it."

"I know she loves me, and I love her, but… I'm a sixteen-year-old boy. It's not about the love."

"It's about the sex."

Adam blushed slightly. "Or in my case, the lack of it."

"Yeah."

"Yeah? Shouldn't you be telling me I'm unreasonable and selfish and all that?"

"Probably. But I'm a sixteen-year-old girl. I have the same thoughts…"

"Really? Well not Jane."

"Awww, I'm sorry for you and your _hormonal issues,_ Adam."

"That's a nice way of putting it."

"Sorry, your unrequited sexual urge." She grinned.

"Yeah, thanks Jude." He was smiling though. "But there's nothing you can do."

She looked up him. Realised she had never really looked at him before. His hair was too long, his skin greasy, his eyes more feminine than hers. Still, those eyes…

_Stop it Judith! He's Adam!_

She coughed, clearing her throat as her heart sped up. "Maybe there is." She moved over and gingerly placed herself in his lap.

"Jude? What… what are you doing?" He made no attempt to move her though.

"I'm thinking of something that could solve your problem." She leaned in, grasping his bottom lip with her moult.

He didn't move, not returning Judith's kiss but not making any move to stop her.

Eventually she pulled back. "Well?"

"Are you suggesting that we… That you and I…?"

"Well duh! It's perfect. It takes the pressure of you and Joan and we, well, yeah. It'd only be sex."

"Jane's your friend, Judith."

"And," She pulls off his beanie and slings it across the room. "I'm doing her a favour."

Her hand travelled up his t-shirt. "Well, I guess."

"Yeah? Good." She pulled his t-shirt off altogether.

Later, much later, both teenagers were completely lacking in clothes.

He reached out to her waist, trying to ignore the feel of her bare skin beneath his fingers. "Jude, Jude…" He tried to steady his panting breath. "This is wrong."

"But it feels so right."

Adam moaned softly, all reason forced out of his head. He was powerless to argue.

Adam, Joan, Friedman, Luke and Grace sat down in Judith's mom's living room.

A single tear ran down Joan's cheek as she caught sight of a picture of Judith on the mantle.

She turned to Judith's Mom. "Mrs. Montgomery, what are we here for?"

"I… I thought maybe you should know, I got the post mortem report back."

She suppressed a howl. Silence for a few seconds. "Judith was… when she died… She was pregnant." Another howl, louder now. "My little girl. She was going to have a baby." She collapsed, sobbing uncontrollably.

Joan jumped up, reaching out to hug Judith's mom. Joan wasn't fighting the tears ready in her own eyes.

Adam ran out.

Joan looked up. "Adam?"


	2. Some secrets are meant to be told

Title: Sweet Temptations, Bitter Ends

Author: hezziebob182

Rating: T

Disclaimer: I don't own Joan Of Arcadia. :( Pretty please don't sue me!

The second instalment. I usually hate stories like this because I can't stand pairing up people who just aren't meant to be together but this fic just came to me one day and I had to write it. So here it is.

"Adam?" Joan found her boyfriend sat on some steps in a nearby park, huddled up, knees pulled into his body. "Are you alright?"

It took Adam several minutes to reply. Joan waited. He shrugged. "You know, Judith. The baby."

"I know, it's so awful." She reached in to wrap her arms around him.

He froze for a few seconds. Joan's hair tickled his face, the sensation comfortingly familiar. For that moment he thought everything was going to be okay. Everything could be hugged better. A five-year-old Adam in the dead of the night, told by his mom that his nightmare wasn't real.

"Any idea who the father was?" Adam crashed painfully back to reality.

"Jane?"

"Um"

"I…"

_I can't tell her. But… Jude's dead. She was having a baby. Possibly, no _probably _my baby. But isn't that enough damage? I can't do this to Jane. _

He thought, as much as he tried not to, of that baby.

_Had Judith known? Would she have kept it? Would it have been a boy or a girl? Would it have looked like me? Would I have left Jane… married Judith? Was it even mine?_

Adam tried to reason with his conscience.

_What good will telling her do?_

He looked at Joan; all too aware of the pain she must feel already. That face he knew so well. He felt as though he had been staring at it his whole life.

_I owe it to Judith. I owe it to the baby that might have been born. And I owe it to Jane. Some things aren't supposed to be forgotten. _

Adam had to spit it out before the words could strangle him.

_Some secrets are meant to be told._

"I slept with Judith."

Joan didn't react for a while. Eventually her expression changed as she registered what he had just said. Adam couldn't tell if she was distraught or just outraged or both. "What did you say?"

He was forced to choke out those painful few words. "I had sex with Judith."

"You did what?" She jumped back from him as if the contact between them was burning her. She was about to run. Adam sensed so.

"Jane, wait! There's… there's more."

"Oh god, no. Please don't say…" She begged desperately.

_Say I've got it wrong. Please! Say that wasn't your baby._

Adam wanted, more than anything in the world at that second, to tell her she'd got it wrong. But he didn't know to tell her. "I don't even know Jane. But we… we didn't use anything." He knew, even now, how stupid it sounded. He couldn't believe how stupid he had been. If only he could take that afternoon back.

"Why the hell not?" Joan couldn't even think about the betrayal.

"I don't know. It's not like we planned it." He tried desperately to grasp any memory of that blurry afternoon two months ago. "It just… happened."

"I can't listen to this." She started to run.

"""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""

Joan sat on the cold, hard and filthy curb with her head in her hands. Hot, scalding tears forced their way out of her eyes and down her face and hands, leaving angry red marks.

_Adam. Judith._

She thought of the tears, the act of crying deemed so beautiful and human by countless poems and stories and movies. She didn't feel beautiful or human. Her head throbbed violently, her eyes red and unbearably sore. She had dropped, unwillingly, to the curb as her legs had buckled under her own weight. Her ears hummed with excruciating silence, the animal-like screaming only she could hear. She rocked determinedly back and forth, trying in vain to sooth herself. Her hands quivered, her head suddenly too heavy to be supported. Joan tried desperately to stop the steady stream of tears; biting down on her lip so hard she could taste her own blood, coppery and strangely familiar. Everything hurt; nothing made sense anymore.

_Adam and Judith. And a baby._

A figure was approaching. If she weren't so out of her head crying she would have worried about the chances of it being somebody dangerous. Now she didn't care.

Then the figure became distinguishable. God. Goth God.

_Oh great. _

Joan thought sarcastically. He sat down next to her.

"Was it his kid?"

God frowned. "Joan, Joan, Joan. I know you're hurting."

"Just answer my question!"

"What do you want me to say? No? It's not my place to say Joan."

"What do you mean it's not your place? You know the answer! Just answer the damn question!"

"Let me ask you a question. What difference does it make to you?"

Joan remained silent.

"You forget who I am Joan. So I'll tell you what difference it makes to you. You hate Adam right now. Hate is a strong word; I usually refrain from using it, but I think here it is called for. And you loved Judith. It's killing you that that love is now tainted in your mind. The idea of them together, it disgusts you. You're positively sick from the betrayal. But you care that Judith died. You may be reluctant to remember but last week, the night she passed, the night you stayed up for hours and learnt to juggle because it was all you could think to do, because you wanted to learn for Judith, you hurt ten times more than you're hurting now. And Adam, you love him. And he's still here. And you hate him but for all the hate you're feeling it doesn't disregard the love. You care if the baby was his; you mourn this possible loss for him even now. These bonds, Joan. Love _and_ hate. They're what hold our lives together."

Joan looked shocked. "Get out of my head! Now!"

_Ha! Love. A load of good that did me. As if I love Adam now. I couldn't care less if it was his kid. His and that slut I used to consider a friend. Don't act like you know how I feel._

God sighed. "Don't lie to yourself. The love, the hate, the pain you feel, I do feel it too you know. And I feel the emotions, hear the thoughts of billions of creatures every single second of every single day. I have done and will do for an eternity. Can you even begin to imagine what that feels like? I know about every aspect of the universe I created, none more so than the ability I gave people to feel."

_I hate how you go on about your "perfect system," the perfection where people lie and cheat and die and get hurt._

"I never said it was perfect Joan."

There'll be more, Hezzie x


	3. Sorry

Hello folks. I don't actually think this is going anywhere at all but I decided to add a little anyway because I've not written anything in ages. This chapter's all from Joan's p.o.v.

Next may be from Adam.

Just one shout out:

Lemmingally: Hey dude! You are my most loyal reader and you rock. I miss you loads right now. Not seen you in hours (4 and a half to be exact). Hezzie xxx

Joan lay in bed and stared at the ceiling. A ceiling she had seen a lot of recently.

_A month in bed. Not bad Joan._

Joan had become very used to having conversations with her herself. Her mom had tried to get her to get up, eat something, go to school, do anything at first. After the first week (in bed) school broke up for Christmas. It passed in a haze of indifference. Gifts from her parents, Grace, Luke, Kevin, they lay neglected in her closet. She had got up on Christmas morning for her mom's sake only, opening everything in the smallest amount of time possible before retreating back to solitude of her room.

It was no secret to her that everyone thought she's cracked up again. There was one mentally agonising hour when Dr. Dan came for a home-visit. She had zoned in and out of everything he said, closing down as she heard words she didn't like to use anymore such as 'Judith', 'Death' and 'Baby'.

_God! Just how much did my mom tell him?_

She pretended to fall asleep eventually. He had spoken to her mom, mentioning 'post traumatic stress disorder' and 'severe depression.'

_Can I not just take some down time without my parents calling the shrink and feeling the need to supervise me 24-7 to make sure I don't slit my wrists?_

There had been no gift from Adam this Christmas. Joan hadn't spoken to him in weeks. He had come round the day of Judith's funeral, protesting to Helen on the porch, demanding to see her. Helen had weakened slightly, calling up to her to announce his arrival officially. Joan just shook her head at him from the spot where she was stood at the top of the stairs. He left.

Last time Joan had checked her email inbox, there were 27 unread messages. A few from cousins and other people wishing her a happy Christmas,

_Very merry, yeah._

4 were from Grace; 1 from Mrs. Montgomery; 19 from Adam. She had left them unopened.

Joan turned over in bed, trying to get comfortable. She was sick of these four walls; this bed, the pillows and the comforter were smothering her. She had moved into the realms of her head these past few months, attempting to escape all the shit going on in her life. It turned out things weren't that pleasant there either.

_That's it Joan. I really need to pull myself together a bit. Starting with… starting with all __the stuff you've been avoiding…_

Reluctantly, she hauled herself out of bed.

From: 'Grace'

Was just wondering if you were okay. Well, that's it really. You will never hear me say this (or write it) again so don't get used to it, but, call me.

From: 'Grace'

So anyway, it's Judith's funeral tomorrow, but you already know that. Rove and I are meeting at his house to go together. 9o'clock, I was thinking you could meet us too. Call me, or mail me back, to come over, send messenger pigeons, anything Girardi. Just get in touch? Grace.

From: 'Grace'

Where were you Joan? What happened? You missed your friend's funeral? What's going on?

From: 'Grace'

dude, I'm worried about you! I came over today, your mom said you were sleeping. Were you? Or didn't you want to see me? What's up?

From: 'Mrs. Montgomery'

Missed you last week at the funeral. I'm really sorry that you couldn't be there. I know you were a very special person in Judith's life and I know you must be hurting right now... Get in touch whenever you can, I'd very much like to see you. Judith would want us to help each other Joan. My love to you, sweet child.

Christie

Joan's hand shook slightly as the mouse point hovered over the first of the messages from Adam. She stopped.

_They can wait._

She grabbed a towel and some fresh clothes and went for a shower.

\\\\\\\\\\\\

As Joan walked up the cold, stone path through the graveyard she stopped to read the inscriptions on the head stones. She said hi to Rocky but couldn't quite bring herself to seek out the resting place of Elizabeth Rove.

Her parents had been reluctant to let her out. They had continually stressed what a 'big big step' it was, talking to her like she had the mental age of 5.

_Maybe they're not far wrong._

Eventually, she found the right place.

Judith Montgomery

1989-2005

Beloved Daughter and Friend

Joan leaned in and squinted to inspect the small marking at the very bottom of the stone. A lump developed in her throat as she read the added marking, that appeared to have been done with a file or some sort chisel of by hand,

'and baby'.

_Adam…_

Joan sat down on the frosty ground and planted a kiss on the marble in front of her. "I'm sorry Jude."


	4. Untitled

Adam had been doing a lot of thinking over the holiday.

A day after he had told Joan about what had happened, Grace had come to visit him…

He had been in the shed, trying to finish a piece for art class. He ran his pencil slowly along the page, trying to focus his attention on the picture in front of him. Eventually, his frustration took hold of him. He sprang upwards, crunching the work into a tight ball. Then he threw it angrily into the trashcan in the corner of the room. Not satisfied with this, he went to kick it hard. Adam missed his target and let out a small yelp as his foot smashed into the wall, then dropped to the floor and curled up, cradling his injured foot with his hands.

'Dude! What happened?' Adam heard Grace's voice from somewhere behind him, but couldn't quite summon up the strength to uncurl himself. She rushed over and skidded to her knees. 'Adam?' she murmured, trying to pry his hands from his face. 'Adam! Show me.'

He curled up even tighter. 'No!' he crowed like a toddler.

'Hey, hey… Adam, it's Grace. You're okay. Just let me see how badly you've hurt yourself.' She stood and backed away a few paces, trying to get him to calm down.

Adam sat up, wincing as he started to pull the sneaker off his wounded foot. His big toe was swollen and bright red.

'Ouch. Dude! Okay, um… can you try and wiggle it?'

He tried, but the pain overtook him. 'It hurts like hell!'

'C'mon hound dog,' Grace ordered, leaning down to help him stand.

'Where?' He leaned in as Grace tucked an arm around him, supporting him.

'Emergency room, that toe's broken.'

'Shit.' He muttered under his breath.

Grace grinned down at him, 'Yeah, shit, basically.'

ooo

The friends had sat and waited at the emergency room for hours. Adam had had been seen to, his toe now taped to its neighbour and bandaged. Now he was waiting for a big supply of painkillers and his bill.

'You need some help paying for this Rove?' Grace offered.

'No. But thanks. I was saving up my wages for a trip to Ohio with Jane. Guess I can spend that now.'

'What the happened Adam? You were like, couple of the century. It was sick inducing how together you were.'

Adam threw Grace a wounded glance before resuming his staring competition with the floor. The floor was winning. 'Don't wanna talk about it Grace.'

'Whatever. Okay then.' Grace was the last person on earth to try and push someone into saying something they'd rather not.

'It's her funeral tomorrow,' Adam said to himself more than Grace.

'Judith's? Yeah. I think we should all meet up in the morning and go together. Shall I ask Joan or will you?'

'I'll email her.'

'Right…'

After a short but silent wait Adam was allowed to leave.

ooo

The next morning, Adam still hadn't heard from Joan. Grace was due to arrive in a few hours. He had to see her.

'Hello?' Adam banged insistently on the Girardi's front door. 'I know someone's home yo.' He banged on the door again harder. After a few minutes, Helen opened the door. 'Hey Mrs. G.' Adam almost hugged her with relief.

Helen looked surprised. 'Adam?'

'I have to see Jane. It's important.' He could feel the lump developing in his throat.

'She… she's not home, Adam. I'm sorry.'

'But I have to speak to her!'

The sympathetic smile offered to him felt like a kick to Adam. 'I'm sorry. What about the funeral? Are you alright to get there because…'

'My dad's driving me and Grace,' he interrupted. 'I know she's home, Mrs. G. Please, just one minute.'

'Adam, I…'

'JANE!' Adam screamed up the stairs in the direction of Joan's room. 'JANE…! JANE, PLEASE!'

'Adam, stop it!' Helen pushed him back from the entrance to the house.

'Please! I need to see her.' Adam started to tear slightly.

Helen wavered a little. 'Adam,' it pained her to even say his name now, he noticed. She reached out to wipe away one of his tears. 'I don't know what happened, with you and Joan, but… she's hurting Adam. She's really hurting. I don't know if it's Judith or you or something else, but I'm worried…' She glanced up towards the top of the stairs. 'Joan, honey, Adam's here to see you.' Helen nodded at Adam before stepping out of his way, allowing him inside.

He walked slowly, hesitantly to the bottom of the staircase. He saw Joan at the top, her face red and blotchy from the tears. She was wearing pajamas with teddies on, and fluffy slippers. She looked rough. He opened his mouth, attempting to start the apology, the explanation, anything. The words got caught in his throat.

_God, she's beautiful._

She shook her head, slowly at first and then more forcefully. Her eyes bore into him, pleading silently. 'Get out!' They said to him plainly. 'Get out!' He did as he was told.

ooo

Joan had never appeared at the funeral. Adam sat right at the back of the church, despite Grace's arguments. Mostly, he had felt guilty. Guilty for sleeping with Judith, guilty for getting her pregnant, but most of all, guilty that at Judith's funeral, all he thought about was Joan.

'As Jesus once said, only in the eyes of god can…'

The service had annoyed and amused Adam in equal measures. Upset as he was, it was obvious to him that the person described at the funeral was not Jude. Not the Judith he had known.

_She would have hated all this religious crap. _

Christie, Judith's mom, had invited him back to her house for food, along with everyone else at the funeral. He had declined.

ooo

After the funeral, Adam had emailed Joan almost every day. Whether or not she read them, he had no idea. She hadn't been in school at all before Christmas. He didn't see her over Christmas break either. Remembering the plans they had made had hurt. They had been going to spend Christmas together.

A few days after Christmas, Adam had gone to do something he should have done a long time ago. Visit Judith's grave. He had been to see him mom and bring the sculpture he had made her, stopping to tell her about his Christmas and his rapidly healing broken toe. He had read the inscription on Judith's headstone. Then he had run home. He was frightened by simply how much it scared him to visit her. Even right after him mom died, he hadn't remembered it hurting this much.

The same day, he had forced himself to go back, this time with a hammer and chisel. Laughing out loud at the graveyard, he realised that if he wanted to end his life now, he had tools to do and was in a rather fitting place. He didn't so much as make one cut on himself though.

_It's not worth it._

What he did do was kneel onto the cold ground and set about working on his task, to mark the resting place of the baby. Judith's baby. His baby. He gashed himself unintentionally more than once, but he hardly felt the pain as he continued to work. He had done what he came to do, that was all that mattered.

ooo

I think there will be another chapter.

Hezzie xxx


	5. Stay Away

Disclaimer: I don't own JoA

Hey! I'm ill… :(. But it could be worse. I'm home sick so that means I have a spare hour to update something. I know it's been a while… I actually had to re-read this myself just to remember what happened in the story.

ooo

Joan had made her peace with Judith. She had cried, screamed, rocked, whispered to her in the night and with all that came a certain level of peace. The pain was still so raw, obviously, but the angry flames in her heart that had once threatened to burn her alive had been extinguished.

Still, the anger had to settle somewhere. Much as she wanted to forgive Adam for what he had done, she doubted that it is was even possible. Judith was dead and perhaps that was the only reason Joan had been able to forgive her. A mixture of love, guilt and grief took over, forcing her to forgive so her friend's soul had no more burdens to carry. Judith's life could have been so much better; she was tied down in so many different ways… Joan had accepted that she must forgive in the hope that Judith could be free. Joan hopes her bond with Judith is always there, no matter how free she becomes.

Joan had read Adam's emails. They were a disappointment to her. The same repetitive, phoney-sounding lines repackaged in different ways every time.

_'I'm so sorry. I love you'_

'_I wish I could take it back'_

'_I think about you every day Jane. I hate that I've hurt you.'_

Joan knew it must have been hard for him to state his feelings so plainly, but it wasn't remorse she wanted from him, it was an explanation. Reasons, cold hard facts that could explain how her life got so screwed up. After Christmas she had to go back to school. Her parents said it was either that or a camp equating more or less to crazy camp, except that it was designed more for emotionally unstable youths than mentally unstable ones. Helen had put it in a much nicer way than that, but basically implied the same thing. So she had to go back to school.

On the first day back, Adam asked Luke if he could 'borrow' the biology closet to talk to Joan alone. Luke had eventually agreed, handing over the keys with a distrustful scowl. 'You watch how you treat my sister, you hear me dude?'

Adam looked away.

'I said, YOU HEAR ME?' Luke puffed out his chest in a ridiculous manner. If Grace had been there, she may well have died laughing if she wasn't aware of the nature of the conversation attached to this action.

Adam was alarmed to hear Luke so aggressive. 'I hear you,' he mumbled, too dead inside from the worst month of his life to have the energy to fight for dominance with Luke.

Somehow, Grace was also roped into his plan to talk to Joan. Grace had stuck by Adam in his time of need, determined to be there for him like she knew he would be there for her if and when she needed it. Her friendship with Joan had not suffered directly from it. When she had dropped by at the Girardi's, which wasn't often as she found it way too weird, neither teen ever mentioned Adam's name.

'So you'll get her to talk to me?' Adam pleaded desperately.

Grace's eyes hardened slightly from this plea. She hated weakness. If Adam was weak he would be hurt even more than he was hurting now, if that was even possible. Most of all she hated to see the people she 'didn't actively hate' (loved) get hurt. 'Dude, I'll try and get her to meet you. I can't promise she'll talk.'

He nodded. 'I'm gonna go and wait. Tell her when you see her.'

After a ten minute wait of sitting on the steps of the school entrance, pure hell since the cheerleaders kept waving pom-poms in her face and screaming peppy chants about Arcadia high in her ear, Grace saw female Girardi walking down the road to school one hesitant step at a time.

It had been hard to recognise her at first. Gone were the skirts and boots and flowing scarves. She was wearing ill-fitting navy track pants and an old grey hoodie. Her hair was swept back in a messy bun and under closer inspection, didn't appear to have been brushed in a long time. Under normal circumstances this obvious depletion in Joan's levels of vanity would have pleased her, but now it was just worrying.

She stood to meet her before she walked strait past her without even noticing she was there. 'Hey Joan.'

For a second Joan's eyes remained blank, as if she was still so lost in another world she needed transition time for you to be able to reach her in this one. She jerked anxiously before replying. 'Grace. Hey.'

'Listen Girardi, I'd put this a better way but I don't really know what to say so…'

'What Grace? Just say it.'

'I kinda told Adam I'd get you to meet him in the biology closet. Like, now.'

'You did WHAT?'

'Yeah, I know sorry. You wouldn't have to say long or anything. Just go, please?'

Joan was amazed to her Grace plead for anything. 'Did you just say 'please' Grace?'

'Um, yeah. And if you ever tell another human being I'm going to cut you up with a pizza slice and feed you to Koala bears. And be warned, they _will _be wearing hats.'

'I'll go.'

'Good.'

Joan found Adam pacing around the closet. He looked up at her and instantly it was as if a knife had stabbed her in the stomach. It scared her to think he could cause her such physical pain in such a small action. He reached over to touch her. To pat her shoulder or hug her or smooth the dampness from her eyes, she didn't know. All she knew was that she wasn't going to let it happen. Just as he got to be about a foot away, she leaned in and pushed him back hard. 'Don't touch me,' she shrieked with a load sob.

'Jane, stop freaking out.'

Joan continued to sob.

'I said stop. Listen Jane, please!'

'I cant…' more hiccups and sobs, 'Listen to you… I can't even _look _at you.'

'Listen Jane, I'm sorry…'

'I said NO Adam… Just go.' The sobbing became even less controlled.

Whoosh. Adam's palm flew through the air and made contact with her cheek. 'Stop freaking out Dammit and LISTEN TO ME!'

Joan raised her hand to the red handprint on her cheek, shocked that he would do such a thing to her.

'Oh god, oh god Jane. I didn't mean that… I just wanted you to hear me out… God I'm sorry.'

For the first time her eyes made contact with his. They were almost black, and held more anger and frustration than Joan thought Adam would be capable of showing. 'Get out.'

'Jane, no. Listen, I can make things right again. Judith, the baby, I can make it all go away.'

'I said GET OUT! And as for Judith, you don't even deserve to be able to say her name! That child is better of dead than with you as a father!'

'I'm not leaving until you hear me out. God I'm sorry. Does your face hurt?'

It took Joan all of two seconds to decide on her actions. Her fist swung forward and slammed into Adam's jaw with a dull thud. No slapping, that was feeble. She knew how to look after herself.

Adam staggered to the floor, having been completely unaware of what was about to happen.

Joan wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stepped over to where Adam lay. 'You stay away from me,' she warned, and then walked out.

ooo

AN: I know, I know. Not great. I felt like exploring Adam's evil side though. There will be more, I promise. I just have no idea what it will involve.

Love and early xmas greetings to you,

Hezzie xxx


	6. Two Can Play At That Game

Disclaimer: I don't own JoA. 

Warning: I added a fairly sized sprinkling of violence to this chapter. I would saw it's still well within the range of a T rating though. If you disagree please let me know.

ooo

As she changed clothes, Joan walked over to the mirror on her dresser and surveyed the damage evident on her bare upper body. Most obvious were the now purplish grip mark bruises on her forearms, aching and tender to touch. Adam gave her that particular souvenir of their relationship four days ago. There were scratches on her neck and she made a mental note to make sure that whatever she wore to school that day covered them. Although she couldn't see it, she was also painfully aware of the bruise on the back of her head where he had slammed her into a wall yesterday, but her hair covered that one so she didn't worry that anyone would notice.

The slap mark on her face from her first encounter with Adam this term had disappeared relatively quickly. After she had walked out of the biology closet she had ran out of school, got the first bus home and spend the best part of an hour nursing her face with a bag of frozen peas. Frozen vegetables had become her savoir, she considered as she once again picked up a bag of rapidly defrosting carrots from her bedside table and pressed them to the bruise on her left arm.

To assume, having seen all her wounds, that Joan came off worse in her all too frequent meetings with Adam, would be a mistake. There were purple marks scattered over his stomach, back and shins to prove it. In each of their meetings Joan endured the pain he caused her until she had him on the floor, so she could stand over him and know that he wasn't the boss in all of this. Joan never touched his face though, and he never touched hers. This was an unspoken rule between her and Adam. Nothing that would reveal to the rest of the world exactly what happened now when they got together.

It happened at different times and places every day, one person dragging the other into a closet or an unused and out of the way classroom, or even hidden underneath the bleachers on the football field once. Schoolwork took a backseat to these meetings. They missed lessons for them to take place and missed lessons to go home in the day and fix up their wounds. School was no longer a place of learning; it was a battleground.

The first bruise Joan had given Adam had remained, obviously. He blamed it on a fall down the stairs though, and after the school rang his father and became assured that Carl Rove did not hit his son, everybody forgot about it.

Joan often thought about how Adam could change when treated in a certain way. He would take her to an empty classroom with no intension of starting the fight that inevitably took place. He would try and talk to her, beg forgiveness and promise never to hurt her again. This was the old Adam. No matter how much she had pleaded with herself to end this charade that day, the anger would come bubbling up to the surface. She would curse him and push him, maybe even kick him while he just took it all and looked sad. Then with each further blow he would merge into the other Adam, whose eyes were black and whose face was contorted and whose handprints had squeezed bruises into her forearms. She would coax him out, heaving a sigh of relief when he finally lunged at her. She preferred to deal with black-eyed Adam; she didn't feel so guilty hurting him. These twisted power games they played, the bitter, angry attacks that now ruled her life, had become the best and very worst point of each day.

_How the hell did we get here?_

ooo

AN: Also not so nice. Things have got to get better soon, I know. I'll do my best. It's either that or kill them both… I shall think about it.


End file.
